Rowan was born to a simple family of the Kaedreni people. His father, Ralof, war a true Highlander in the highest sense of the term: A strong, powerful, brutish man with thick auburn hair. Ralof had a problem with losing his temper, but this was often cooled by his wife and Rowan’s mother, Elisir. Elisir was graceful as far as Highlanders go, and she taught Rowan to love more of the finer things in life. Rowan’s mother educated both he and my sister Caitir in the home, in order to learn those skills, and his father would take him into the wilderness to learn what it was to be a man. Rowan never really did fit in with many children, due to his social awkwardness and general distrust of people, but he gradually learned to play the part of an extrovert. Rowan don’t really know where this distrust of people came from, but he always feel as though he will be taken advantage of. As he grew, his body became toned and strong, as those around him.
At the age of 18, my family was making a journey to the land of the Heartlanders, for my father was a trader of fine skins and pelts. I was excited that my father had invited us to come, for I had never been to Carolustadt. A day’s ride in, it turned fatal. A terrible blizzard blew, covering all with thick snow. My sister’s skin turned blue, and mine was on its way. My father was having trouble seening through the whiteout, and the cart abruptly drifted off the road, ruining the axles. Making as best a shelter we could, my father covered us with his woolen coat. We huddled together with myself and Caitir in the middle as we attempted to weather the storm. Eventually, I succumbed to the darkness.
You never really recover from peeling a dead, frozen body off of you. My father was the first to go, more than likely. Next was my mother, her pretty face forever frosted in ice. My sister and I did survive, but she fell due to hypothermia a few hours of walking later. When I was found by a merchant, he said I was barely breathing. He brought me to the monks, where I was eventually nursed back to health. After my body had recovered (for my mind still was far from it), I tracked down the man who saved my life. His name was Theodoric, and I traveled with him for many years, learning about the art of salesmanship and trade. After 4 years with him, I left him to try to discover myself. And in the silence in a blooming meadow, I had a revelation. After then, I only had one desire. One longing to which I would follow: to learn the ways of the Arcane. Now at the age of 32, I have returned to the monks to see if they can point me in a direction to follow this path. I swear on my father and mother’s graves: I will never let someone I love die again. There, my story begins....
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